We May be Backwards, but we Know Where We're Going. ...

So, Kaler told me the the other day that he would like a mullett. In the front, though. "Party in the front, business in the back", he said. He is a true redneck through and through, and is proud to be one. My son Jance pines to live in a trailer. That's all he wants. His own trailer. You should see the trailers he's been looking at on KSL. (No, we're not going to oblige him.) The trailer he wanted more than anything was painted solid red with a huge white "U" on it. Only $500 and surely no one would see it going down the road to get here. I overheard Craig telling the boys last night that at one time, he had a job that involved "pre-skidmarking new underwear for the marketplace", and he was the best in his division. He's told the kids since they were little about the jobs he used to have. For instance, long, long ago, he made dirt for a living, and mentioned what tough work it was to grind up rocks into dirt, for back then, we had no dirt. He also made cat trails back in the day, so the cats would know how to get through the fields, ... etc.

I haven't really written a lot about my family. It's true, my family is a freakshow. They know it. Of course I love them. They know that as well. If you lived at our house, you would hear remarks that would surely shock you, but go unnoticed by us. Last weekend we took our freakshow out in public. We all got ready for the day, as usual. It was cold so I put on my son's long sleeve flannel shirt and his socks for warmth. I pulled a winter stocking hat, also my son's, on my uncombed hair and started working around the house. Somewhere along the day, we ended up in the car. If I had realized we were actually going somewhere in public, I would have put my own clothes on. We ended up in the Orem mall. Yes, we did get looks, between the 3 buckaroo dressed cowboys, and the mom who dressed like a sloppy little boy, we did get looks. I mean we were in top notch trailer mode. Jance did get embarrassed when I pulled my pant legs up to adjust my socks, which had turned completely around and the heel was on the top of my foot, right in the food court. Did I mention, they were my son's and way to big?

Now why am I writing this? Most families hide this sort of thing. Is it because I'm past the point of desperate to put a blog out there, even to put my own family on the chopping block? No, it's because I want you to know, you no longer have to laugh at us behind our backs. We know who we are, and it's who we are. You may snicker right in front of us, but just know, to us, it's already old news. We laugh at ourselves more than anyone else possibly could. We are a good time had by all. We're the best time we've ever had. Our thighs hurt from slapping them too much during long bouts of breathless laughter, not to mention how our sides ache.

So let me explain the photo above; I am not a fan of "the Christmas letter". Last year, as a way to laugh at the Christmas letter, we decided to do a picture that says all, of everything we accomplished during the year 2009, namely a lot of bike riding, shooting, sculpting and makeup. And we didn't have to write a single word. Only immediate family got this picture, but due to my generous nature, I decided to share it with the world. This will truly give you a sense of who we are.

Thank you friends and family for accepting us for who we are. Unless you don't anymore after reading this.

Hallowed Eve Repast

I love Halloween so much, you don't even know! I have been such a busy witch (that's with a "W", mind you) getting my potions ready, and my poisons concocted.

I got all the treats wrapped up and got ready for the little Trick or Treaters. I had about 35 little monsters, and their big parents, come to my house this year. At one point, I had 25 people in my little teeny house as two big groups came at once. I believe there was a scuffle in my driveway when they left, because Kaler went out the next morning and found where someone accidentally lost about half of their loot, probably trying to climb back in the car, but, alas, no little children were left behind, much to my dismay. Last year I purchased a cauldron big enough for two small children (hee, hee, hee!) but never got a chance to use it.

The following day, and for the second time in 5 years, I threw my annual Halloween dinner party. I know, having it only twice in five years doesn't make it annual, but it just is. I chose my colors carefully, light luminous green and black. How elegant, you say, as did I. It's too darn bad that I couldn't find hardly anything in those colors to decorate with. I banned the color orange this year. (You are still my favorite color, orange, and I still love you!)

Well, parties are pretty much all about the food. Craig and I both like grown-up creepy food, now that we are, indeed, grown up.

So, my menu included a roasted fleshworm, giant bat legs, warm bloodroot in a light, buttery orange sauce, garlic mashed potatoes (well, we needed some normalcy) and several varieties of crusty breads served with rotting spread. Okay, the cauldron was brewing up root beer, not children. I served it all up in my collection of creepy antique dishes. Here is a picture of Craig. He was our bread butler.

There was a dessert buffet for when the food began to decompose in our stomachs. I know the picture doesn't show it, but there were a lot of desserts. It does show, however, the giant onion my mother gave to me as a gift. Thank you, mom. Your the best. Who else gets giant onions for their dessert table from their moms.

No one but the nephews dressed up. All the adults were smarter than I was. I think next year I will take the hint as I singed the veil on my hat twice when I got too near the candles. The picture below is my sister Ursula's family, with appropriate 'cheesiness'.

I couldn't help it. Daegan looked so evil with the "red eye", I just had to post it.

The next picture is of my dad, my sister Melissa, and my mom.

This next photo is of Melissa and my sister, Carma. There is not a soul in my family who does not cheese it up for photos.

So, Halloween is over, as much as I love it, I'm happy to put the graveyard away, the skeleton away, the family away (kidding Craig). I had the greatest time! I wish all my sisters could have been there. For all you ghost chasers out there, in the picture below there are loads of orbs. It shows up much better in the full size photo, but they are there. I think it's just gas.

I am not the only one who's tired. This dude had a massive hangover the next day.

I hope everyone had the greatest Halloween.

Flood of 2009, Duct Tape Syndrome, and Little Chinaman

I had such a busy weekend redoing my floor. I will blog about my floor in due time, but first let me preface the reason the floor needed redoing.

So anyways, a year ago last June, we got a phone call from Kaler, my oldest son, to get home right away because water was coming into the house. It was raining and it was coming down pretty hard. We learned later that it rained 2 inches in one hour. We figured there would be water seeping under our sliding doors. Well, when we arrived about 20 minutes later, the water level was about a foot deep around the outside of our house. Most of my pictures are taken after the water had receded.

All the junk in this photo started out behind our house. (I'm going to say, neatly stacked up.)

Kaler and Jance, my two boys, and their friend were all furiously trying to dig a ditch to guide the water away from the house. The whole while, it was raining buckets! They had dams built the best they could, bless their hearts! They said they saw a cat floating by in the river of fast moving water. They took this picture of the poor kitty after she made it ashore.

We walked down the steps to the house. Holy Crap! We even said it aloud. I opened the door and found about 7 inches of water and mud inside our house, wall to wall. We had to wait for the water outside to recede before the water in the house would drain out. This picture was after most of the water had drained, and most of the rest of it was thick mud.

We live in a tiny, single level house. There wasn't a single inch of dry floor inside our entire house. We live on a hill, a pretty big one, but my neighbor who pulled out all of his orchard and plowed and tilled all those acres into nice, fluffy soil, to plant alfalfa, lives just a bit higher than us. So, when the rain came down that hard, all of his fluffy topsoil came barreling down into our yard and into the house. Neither the insurance or the neighbor took any responsibility for any of the cost to clean it up.

There was nothing we could do with the carpeting, so we put our efforts into cleaning up the kitchen. After we got the water out, there was about an inch and a half of mud across the whole floor. We would fill a dustpan with heavy mud with each pass. We had that floor completely cleaned up including getting mud out of all the nooks and crannies. As we were deciding what to do about all the furniture and other stuff that was getting ruined, it started to rain again, and the water and mud came in again, and all of our efforts were for nothing. I said a couple of bad words. We re-cleaned the kitchen and bathroom. At this point it was after 10:00 and I went to bed. Our blankets hung down to the floor and absorbed muddy water. Can you imagine getting in bed with cold, wet muddy edges of your blankets, then getting out of bed in the morning to step on wet, muddy carpeting? Our neighbor, the one who lost all his topsoil to our house, had his workers come and dig a canal through our little backyard orchard taking out 4 of our fruit trees, because, once again, it was supposed to rain hard, and rain it did. The canal seemed to work.

So, all of our belongings had to go into storage. They've been there for over a year. Since the house was empty, we decided to renovate the interior of the house at such an opportune time. Unfortunately, Craig has been busy meeting deadlines and hasn't been able to put much time into the house. We've been living with what I call 'duct tape syndrome', meaning, if we can live in this condition for a week, then I'll bet we'll survive a month, six months, a year, etc. So here we are one year and four months later, and I finally have a floor I can write about, but I won't. Yet.

This is my favorite picture to come from the flood.

This little Chinaman washed up after the first big dumping. It's actually Kaler's friend who stayed out in the rain getting soaking wet, helping us build dams and guide water the entire time. He was able to push his boat (sled that he had found floating in the water) around the entire lawn. He is sitting on a bucket that he also found floating in the water.

And That Is Why They Call Him Sparky

This is a blog that begs to be written. I can’t actually believe I’m writing this, but it’s so funny to me, and yet, I’m so embarrassed and shocked by it at the same time, which somehow makes it funnier. My sister Ursula’s little boy was 2 years old when this happened, which was just last summer. We were at my mom and dad’s house for some occasion, probably 4th of July or dad’s birthday, all I remember, is it was summertime. This little guy, Daegan, brought a pail of toys into the house and dumped some of them onto the floor, but wanting to share, he dumped the remainder into grandpa’s lap. Well, turns out there was quite a bit of sand in the bottom of the pail and my dad hollered at Ursula who was in another room, to come and see the mess that her child had made. Ursula promptly picked up the toys and grabbed the vacuum and cleaned up the floor. She started to vacuum the chair, in which my dad was still sitting, stopped, and handed the vacuum hose to him and said “Here, you do it. I’m not in the mood to vacuum your nuts.” I stopped breathing. With a family full of girls, we NEVER said things like that. Then I started laughing, probably to cover up my embarrassment, most likely. A year later, I still laugh. And I’m still embarrassed.

I put my own sons in this same sort of predicament a just a couple of months ago. I don’t know what happens when a mother decides it’s okay to tell your children a naughty joke because they might enjoy it, but that’s what happened. I was sitting at my computer and something must have triggered me to remember the joke in the first place as I just can't imaging telling my kids a naughty joke out of the blue. Here's the joke:

Q: What do you call a dog with short legs and metal balls?

A: Sparky

There was no laughter heard. I looked back at my oldest who was behind me to see if he even heard me. He was laughing so hard, no sound came out. I think he was quite pleased that his own mother would share such a gem with him. Once my youngest "got it", we all laughed the hardest we have probably ever laughed together. I know I had tears rolling. Simply put, a bonding moment. Okay, it was a mild naughty joke, but this was the first and last naughty joke my kids will ever hear coming out of my mouth.

Okay, so speaking of funny, naughty off-colored moments, this one happened to Craig. As most of you know, I do a lot of Brazilian waxing among loads of other treatments at my spa. I did not know that my kids knew what a Brazilian wax was, since, hello, that’s not really something we talked about at the dinner table, in fact, I really tried to shield my kids from knowing that I did that particular service. Well, one night, Craig came out of the bathroom, just having taken a shower, with the towel over his shoulder instead of around his waist. Jance looked right at him and yells, “Geez, dad, you need to let mom give you a Brazilian!! Again, embarrassment, laughter, “get your towel on” etc. Maybe too much information, there.

I heard once, in my youth, that there are only two kinds of jokes, funny ones and clean ones. Well I can tell you that you can have a clean, yet funny joke. Since my entire blog was full of naughty things, I will let you enjoy one of my very most loved clean jokes. I laugh at this joke every single time I tell it aloud. I tell it all the time, and if you have been around me, guaranteed you’ve heard it at least once.

Q: “What do you call a dog with no legs?

A: “It doesn’t matter, he won’t come when you call him anyway. “

So I just realized I have two jokes that contain "what do you call a dog". Had no idea my variety was so limited. One day we'll go through my "what do you call a man with no arms and legs" jokes. Have a happy day.